Before I get a chance to find out what type of message I’ll be leaving this afternoon, a stern voice barks, “What are you doing?”
I freeze in place, her voice alone triggering my fight-or-flight instinct. “I’m calling a friend from college. Is there something I can do for you, Mother?”
After I manage to will my limbs to move, I turn to face Lisa Sparrow, socialite, matriarch of the Sparrow family, and perpetually disappointed in me.
She has her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun. Pearls older than I am decorate her neck, and diamonds adorn herears and fingers. She’s dressed in a prim light blue skirt, cream blouse, and sky-high heels I would break my neck in.
Mother rakes her gaze over my oversized T-shirt and worn cutoffs, sneering at either my choice of attire or just the fact that I exist.
She scoffs at the notion of me having any friends as if the idea that someone could possibly like me is that unbelievable. “Yes. You can stop calling your sister. Marcus had to confiscate her phone so they can bond as husband and wife. Call her once more, and I will cancel your phone plan and take back your device.”
Uneasiness pools in my stomach at the thought of Marcus taking away Wren’s only way to contact the outside world, as though she’s a misbehaving child instead of his wife.
Mother and Father have allowed me to go to college but refuse to let me get a job. They pay for everything, and they never let me forget about it. I have to toe the line or risk getting cut off completely.
“Yes, Mother,” I reply, careful to keep my voice even and avoid setting her off.
It doesn’t work.
“I also received a disturbing letter from your university. It seems that, in addition to your business major, you have picked up a graphic design minor. I expect you to drop it before the semester starts. Otherwise, you will not be attending college any longer.”
My heart thumps frantically in my chest at the thought of not being able to finish my last year.
I need to graduate to get out of this house. Without a degree, I’ll never be able to find a job to support myself, and I’ll be trapped here until I’m forced to marry whatever man my parents pick out.
I can’t imagine spending another week in this gilded cage thinly disguised as a house, let alone the years it will take my parents to find me a match that benefits them.
I will do anything and everything I have to graduate, including dropping the only subject I actually like at college. Business bores me to tears. But graphic design gives me an outlet to express myself, challenge myself, and grow.
At least, it did. I guess I won’t be taking any more graphic design classes.
“I had to take electives to graduate,” I rush to tell her, needing her not to make good on her threat. “With the number of graphic design electives I have taken, it made sense to add a minor. It’s not taking anything away from my major.”
“I don’t care,” she snaps. “I expect you to drop that minor and choose something more suitable instead. It will already be nearly impossible to find you an advantageous match with how you look and your inability to do anything right. How on earth do you expect me to marry off a waste of space like you when you have a minor like graphic design?”
I close my eyes as I do my best to be like the old Wren and let her words roll off me.
Unfortunately, I’ve never mastered the art of not giving a shit what people think, especially Mother.
Unlike Wren, I have the privilege of attending college, but that’s only because I’m less desirable than my older sister. I’m not nearly as pretty, sociable, likable, or good wife material as she is.
In order to be desirable to a future husband, my parents decided that I needed to “add value” by having a respectable degree. Knowing how to run a business will apparently make up for my lack of beauty and natural talent.
I was surprised my parents let me go to a human university at first. Now, I suspect that it was to keep me from running into any potential mates.
I can’t very well get married off if I’m mated, now can I?
I don’t want to get married for convenience. I want to find my mates and fall in love and actually start living. But that’s never going to happen if I can’t get my degree and get out of this fucking house and away from my mother.
I school my expression to be contrite. “I apologize, Mother. I will contact the school today and get it changed.”
“See that you do.” Walking up to me, she lifts her hand, and I flinch. It doesn’t make a difference as she slaps me hard on my stomach, the crack echoing through the room. “And I will tell the chef not to make you a meal for tonight and to drop down to one meal a day until you leave. You’re getting fat. You can’t even see your waist anymore. With your flat chest and boyish hips, it’s no wonder you have no boyfriend or interested suitors to speak of.”
With that parting shot, she whirls around and glides out of my room, the picture of elegance and grace.
I hold back my tears as I rub my stinging belly. Walking over to my mirror, I pull up my shirt and pinch the skin covering my abdomen, hating how I look. My stomach is soft instead of lean with muscle. My waist is athletic instead of tiny. My hips are trim instead of curvy and voluptuous.
I’ve never been as naturally beautiful as Wren or my mother or Charlie or anyone, really. I’ve tried to tell myself it doesn’t bother me, but even I don’t believe that lie.
